Su Lingxi had no habit of judging people by their appearance, nor did she intend to probe into others’ secrets.
She just hadn’t expected him to suddenly ask such a question.
After glancing briefly, she withdrew her gaze and replied, “Not ugly.”
Ye Zhuxu heard her short reply.
Whether satisfied or not, he straightened up, pulled away, and sheathed Jingmie.
His sleeves billowed like clouds, gently covering his hands.
After this incident, the ironwood tree was forcibly reduced in size by several puppet cultivators and now hung awkwardly in the barrier.
Su Lingxi was the first to leap down from its branches, landing lightly on the street after a few quick jumps.
By this time, many people in the district behind them had been awakened by the thunder and gale, lighting their lamps.
Baixiao stared solemnly at Su Lingxi’s figure for a long moment and finally said, “This isn’t our spell—it’s a technique from the mortal world.
People of Fuyu disdain the so-called Great Dao of the mortal realm.
They focus on themselves and their origin, able to unleash countless divine powers with a single thought, unpredictable and ever-changing.
The Three Great Sects lack origin power, so they emphasize body refinement, seeking breakthroughs by observing the terrain and celestial phenomena.
In combat, they rely more on weapons and techniques.
Though they also use swords, their swords cannot tear clouds or summon thunder, nor can they directly strike at a demon’s vital core.
But when it comes to bragging, they’re not lacking.
Fuyu ends up being used as a comparison each time.
With each comparison, bias and resentment naturally arise.
It wouldn’t matter if it were someone else—but Su Lingxi is the most gifted genius in incense arts.
Even now, she is a renowned senior at the academy—the only one who, despite her age, has completed all twelve paths and is a confirmed future Twelve Witch.
And this person… learned techniques from the Three Great Sects.
The art of incense is so divine that it can be called a true miracle.
When the incense burner appears, all laws bow to it.
Standing above the clouds, one truly looks down on the world like an immortal.
No matter how you try to justify it, it’s hard to imagine her wielding swords and spears boldly, even going one-on-one with the burly fools of the Three Great Sects on the arena stage.
Just imagining it is hard to accept.
Especially among those who also practice incense arts—blank and pained disbelief already marked their faces.
Su Lingxi was unaware of the mental turmoil in their hearts, and even if she knew, she wouldn’t care.
First, she reached out to pull Wei Shixian—still frozen, leaning on the doorframe—out of his stupor, then softly instructed the arriving Jinwu Guards to clear several nearby streets.
Once done, she turned to the Fuyu Thousand, who had also returned to the street, especially the one at their head.
Her tone calm:
“Commander, how many demons did we detect just now?”
Ye Zhuxu didn’t look at her.
After reveling in the pleasure of sword intent and toying with others, a listless dead calm enveloped him again.
He was slightly distracted and answered a beat late:
“Three.”
Su Lingxi was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What level of strength?”
“Uncertain.”
“Three—are they all the demons in Chang’an right now?”
“…Hm?”
He seemed lost in thought, and her naive question pulled him back.
He replied, “You must be joking.”
It had been who knows how long since anyone had spoken to Su Lingxi like this.
They had only met twice, spoken very few words, but she had already memorized this voice—lazy, indifferent, probably unwilling to engage, always replying a beat late, often laced with sarcasm and mockery.
Su Lingxi had certainly noticed him—in fact, few people didn’t.
He was exceptionally beautiful.
But her attention wasn’t on his face.
She noticed that tonight, his bell was silent, and when she glanced casually, she found his waist empty—he had removed the silver bell.
Su Lingxi quietly let out a breath.
Fourteen years was not a number one could say lightly.
She had a good memory, but even she, when trying to recall those who once stood across from her atop the high city walls, in the magnificent golden palace—once mortal enemies—realized that some were now old, others had long turned to dust beneath overgrown grass.
Sometimes, she herself didn’t even know what she was doing.
She only knew that she used to be a Chancellor and was now the Emperor’s mentor.
She must restrain the royal clan, assist the Emperor, and protect the peace of the realm.
If demons come, she slays them; if monsters arise, she eliminates them.
Year after year, she repeated the same tasks, pushed along this path, sometimes unwilling, feeling like she was waiting for something.
But what?
She had forgotten even what she was waiting for.
This Commander couldn’t let go.
She truly didn’t know how to work with someone like him.
She didn’t think of herself as fickle in love, yet the looks from those who knew the truth seemed to say otherwise.
She had owed many things in her life, played many roles—but love debt?
Never.
A heartbreaker?
Not once.
If Ye Zhuxu was willing to let go and get down to business, that would be for the best.
Mad in action, sharp in words—compared to those, it wasn’t much.
Su Lingxi could easily laugh it off.
Wei Shixian was the son of the Minister of Rites.
In Chang’an, he was highly praised by young ladies.
The most dramatic event in his life had been the suicide of his older brother Wei Shiming.
His usual troubles were limited to his father’s scoldings.
Now, with sword light brushing his body, he remained dazed, still feeling phantom pressure on the pulse at his neck—the threat of death more terrifying than a viper’s fangs.
He subconsciously drew closer to Su Lingxi, trailing half a step behind her, almost shoulder to shoulder.
Su Lingxi didn’t notice.
She was pulling out long threads from her sleeve, loose and tangled, occasionally flashing with golden light.
Baixiao saw her bending to weave and tie them, and couldn’t help asking, “What are you doing?”
“That demon opened a domain tonight—it won’t be able to open another for at least five days. When your commander used his sword light to lock it down, I cast some tracking threads. I can trace its location.”
As she spoke, Su Lingxi swiftly broke one of the threads.
Sparks flared from both ends. Casually, she tossed it and it hooked onto a broken branch of the ironwood tree.
“Since we’re already here, let’s start by killing this one.”
Baixiao paused, then asked, “Is this called… passing the thread?”
Su Lingxi stepped back, calculating time.
The thread needed at least half an hour to activate.
Since the demon had used a domain tonight, wounded or not, it was best to act before dawn—delays might cause changes.
As she thought this, her elbow bumped into something.
She turned and found it was Wei Shixian.
Wei Shixian called to her, “My lady.”
Su Lingxi responded, motioned for Xiliu to come over, and whispered to her to dispatch two demon-slaying squads to stand by.
By now, the Jinwu Guards had sealed off the street, and the red glow of torches reflected off armor, creating an atmosphere of grim urgency.
Once that was done, she finally looked at Wei Shixian.
Tonight, the young noble was well-prepared, dressed formally.
Despite the summer heat, he wore a long dark robe and a small silver crown with inlaid jade.
His youth showed in his features—brows like distant peaks, lips like coral.
Due to tension and the aftershock of that sword light, tiny droplets of sweat clung to his brow and nose.
When he met Su Lingxi’s gaze, it would not be an exaggeration to call it a moment of unspoken feeling.
Ye Zhuxu, at some point, had lifted his eyes to watch.
His pupils were a deep color, like two glass beads soaked in chill.
They gave off an air of meticulous focus.
He watched Wei Shixian edge closer to Su Lingxi and also watched every expression on Su Lingxi’s face—trying even to capture some hint of surprise or emotional wavering in her eyes.
It was strange.
He had truly, utterly given up on this woman.
He didn’t want to pursue the reason, nor resolve any misunderstandings.
His life had long turned into a pool of lifeless still water.
The only reason he held on until now was because, even in death, he felt he must be with Su Lingxi—otherwise, how could he rest in peace?
How could he be reconciled?
Now he forced himself to hold on to a sliver of reason, to lead the team and slay the demon, because he felt—it couldn’t end like this.
For things to end so miserably, so painfully—how could that be the end?
Something had to pay the price.
And yet, even with such extreme thoughts suppressing him, it still hurt so much.
Watching Su Lingxi blend into the mortal world, accept a new identity, practice new arts, and even have a new man by her side.
Watching her accept all this so easily, integrate herself as if it were natural, watching her ruthlessly discard all that once was.
He was astonished that this heart of his still had the strength to stir up so much hatred, to breed such twisted, tangled jealousy.
He thought it had already withered into a cracked shell, yet it still had blood left to be squeezed out.
Ye Zhuxu felt a strange urge to laugh at this discovery.
He lightly curled his lips.
Truly… what a deep, bitter hate.
Yu Lin’an sensed something was off.
He stepped forward and patted the young lord’s shoulder, pulling him away from Su Lingxi.
“Brother, if you have something to say, say it to me.”
Wei Shixian saw him suddenly appear—an unfamiliar face—and gave a respectful bow out of courtesy.
“My lord.”
His eyes still lingered on Su Lingxi.
She gave off a sense of calm and security, like an anchor in a storm.
After hesitating a moment, Wei Shixian struggled to speak.
“Would it be… possible not to return home just yet?”
Wei Shixian wasn’t without courage.
If someone gave him a horse and a spear and said the border was in danger, he would ride out without hesitation.
But having just encountered a demon and then going home where ghosts might await—that was something else entirely.
The shock of it was too great for reason alone to overcome.
Su Lingxi was silent for a moment.
Now that the Jinwu Guard had arrived, and the people from Fuyu were also here, the demon-slaying teams would soon gather.
If this young lord didn’t want to return to the Ministry of Rites estate, there were plenty of other places to stay.
Since he made the request, it was likely out of fear of being harmed again while alone, but she couldn’t very well house him in the Imperial Mentor’s residence.
“Xiliu,” Su Lingxi furrowed her brow slightly, “have someone take Fourth Young Master to the Demon Subjugation Office. Prepare a duty room, just…”
“Let him come to the North Wing. There are plenty of empty rooms—most of us sleep in trees anyway,” Yu Lin’an interrupted.
Having been attacked in the South Wing, with Ye Zhuxu possibly targeting government officials, this kid would be safer under some cold stares than dead.
Su Lingxi gave him a glance and signaled Xiliu to carry out the arrangement.
Before long, two demon-slaying squads arrived.
Normally, with Fuyu present, they wouldn’t be needed.
The issue was that, though strong, this team lacked cohesion and discipline.
In critical moments, everyone acted on their own, each with their own ideas.
When it came to slaying demons, they focused only on the kill.
But the essence of demon-slaying was to protect the people.
Su Lingxi worried they might go too far and harm innocents, so she intended to both show and tell them how they should operate from now on.
No one else could do it—it had to be her.
The officials from the South Wing didn’t even spare her a glance.
After a while, Su Lingxi pulled down the guiding thread to check it.
Seeing no activity, she let it go again.
Eventually, she leaned against a branch of the iron tree.
In her pale, slender fingers, she occasionally flicked out talismans that flashed with light—simple mortal-world message charms, clumsy-looking when used.
Xiliu stayed beside her.
Sang Chu and the others were talking on the other side.
To avoid being overheard, Yu Lin’an even put up a barrier. Su Lingxi sensed the fluctuation and looked back briefly, but just then a Jinwu Guard came running up to report something.
She lost interest and turned her head away again.
It was very clear—two groups, two centers of gravity.
Neither could merge with the other.
Not long after, the threads began to form patterns.
Su Lingxi pulled them down for a closer look.
Seeing the signs, she instinctively reached out and knocked on the barrier:
“We have a lead.”
Ye Zhuxu slowly lifted his eyes. He was the last to react.
For some reason, Su Lingxi, who had been focused on the thread and hadn’t moved, looked up at that very moment to meet his gaze.
His steps faltered slightly.
His thumb pressed hard against the hilt of his sword, heavily rubbing the engraved sheath.
For a brief instant, he felt like he had fallen into a dream again.
Ye Zhuxu often had the same dream—
The day he first met Su Lingxi.